


That One Christmas Where It All Went to Hell

by devaway



Series: Out of the Fire, Into the Cold [4]
Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Banter, Dialogue Heavy, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mobius is alive, Road Trip!, Switching Perspectives, Why Did I Write This?, but they don't matter, i really tried guys, my OCs are bitchin, only one person dies, things aren't going to be easy, this has way more plot that i anticipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devaway/pseuds/devaway
Summary: Sebastian and Stefano leave Krimson behind and head elsewhere. They happen to leave just before Christmas.Cue Seb's minor road rage, a very confused gas station clerk, and another bloodthirsty Mobius official out to get them.Happy holidays!





	That One Christmas Where It All Went to Hell

It was holiday season, and that meant two things. First, it meant that there was an absurd amount of people milling about on the streets at hours where the world had been previously vacant. They were out there, traveling from point A to point B, and able to see what they wouldn’t have before. That meant extra precautions, extra over-the-shoulder glances, because within those groups of travelers, it took no amount of intelligence to know that there were Mobius agents waiting and watching.

The second thing was that the motels were full. And that proved to be the most vexing out of everything. 

“I’m not sleeping on the street.” Stefano yawned. He said it like a promise. Sebastian ground his teeth. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel of the old Ford truck he’d managed to acquire. Beyond him, the road stretched on, bathed in the red-purples of an early winter’s sunset, crisscrossed through with headlights and brake lights. It wasn’t a traffic jam exactly, but it was getting there.

“You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Sebastian wasn’t ready to kill anybody yet, but he was getting there.

“Just, shut up, would you? I fucking hate the holidays and you aren’t making it any easier.”

“Ah, my apologies. I wasn’t aware I was here to make your life easier.”

Sebastian didn’t respond to that. He reached out and smacked the radio on. Jingle Bells filled the car until the ex-detective punched in another radio station. Jingle Bells turned to Quiet Riot and Sebastian dropped his head to the back of the seat. He imagined Stefano was scowling, but that was alright. He didn’t need to appease the man. That wasn’t their deal.

If Sebastian tried hard enough, he could almost forget his own thoughts and just focus on the (painfully slow) drive and the guitar solo. It was meditative, in a way. Even near Christmas, Sebastian knew he could find solace in the one thing that Americans cherished more than their consumer holidays, and that was 80’s music. It was probably a statement about how much people valued the past and how ephemeral those things were that they were supposed to care about--

Shit. He’d been spending too much time around Stefano.

He allowed a quick glance to the man (not because he was eager to look at him, no) to make sure he wasn’t about to mess something up. Much to Sebastian’s surprise, he wasn’t fiddling with his camera nor his knife (both of which he was happy to label Christmas presents). Stefano stared out the window with his chin on his fist, attention directed to somewhere far, far beyond. Maybe it was the sunset, or maybe it was the unnervingly symmetrical lines of cars stretched across the very straight roads across a very straight landscape. It was pretty with a certain post-apocalyptic flair; everyone looked like they were fleeing something horrible. Were they?

Sebastian came to his senses just before he rear-ended someone. He slammed on the brakes, jolting forward, thinking it would be a miracle if no one rear-ended him. No one did. He settled back in his seat with a smirk to Stefano, who glared at him with unhidden animosity. Sebastian snorted and returned his eyes to the road (where he intended to keep them, this time).

“Should I drive?”

“Hell no.”

“You’re not being very convincing that you know how to do it.”

“I’m not trusting you with Bessie.”

“Bessie?” The look on Stefano’s face was a artful mix of confusion, offense, and incredulousness. Then, with a laugh, he asked: “You named this thing already?”

Sebastian patted the dash. “Of course. Any car worth its salt has to have a name.”

“This is a truck.”

“It’s also a car. Car is the overarching word. Truck, minivan, sportscar, those are all types of cars.”

“I’m going to have to disagree. Automobile is the ‘overarching word.’ Cars and trucks are types of automobiles.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to glare disbelievingly.

“No one says automobile. Literally no one.”

“The word for car in many European languages is  _ auto. _ ”

“Eh, well, we’re not in Europe, now are we?” Sebastian quipped. Stefano rolled his eye but didn’t argue back. He sighed and brought his bag up onto his lap. The song changed and Sebastian turned the volume up. Driving in silence was like wandering around the house without turning any lights on. Myra used to do that. She was too busy with whatever she was doing to be bothered with lights. Sebastian couldn’t count the number of times he’d come home to find her sitting on the couch with her laptop, typing away in the darkness. She’d look up and smile that tired smile at him, the blue glow emphasizing the lines on her face…

He didn’t want to think of that.

He fucking hated the holidays.

Traffic finally began to move a little faster. Sebastian knew it would after he made it out of Krimson. He didn’t really know where they were going, only he knew that they had to get  _ away _ . It was terrifying and freeing at the same time. Sebastian had stayed in Krimson for so long he clung to it even though it didn’t offer him anything, anymore. In fact, it was dangerous to stay where people knew him, where Mobius could pay off petty criminals and spread rumors. For all of their technology, they preferred to work in manpower. It was slower, but more effective in the long run. There was no terror quite like feeling strange eyes sizing you up wherever you went, or familiar ones, for that matter. Whatever vendetta they now had against him was fueled by something far worse than anger. Whatever they were going to do to him, death was too simple, too easy. Sebastian constantly fought the feeling that all of this, the running, the searching, was in vain.

But there was nothing else he could do, nothing left for him to protect. If he was going down, he’d do it in the most destructive way possible. That was his creed now.

The shine of Krimson faded away in the rearview mirror, and Sebastian couldn’t say he was going to miss it. It was a corrupt city, full of pain and bad memories. He drove and kept driving. Stefano turned his back to him and slept. The sunset turned to dusk and dusk to night and Sebastian continued until the traffic lightened and he was on a two-way highway to absolutely nowhere.

\---

In Krimson, a man was running. He was a nondescript man, dressed in nondescript clothes, but he ran with the determination of a well-trained soldier. He ran toward a building, tall, shiny against the darkness of the sky. He reached it and fumbled with keys drawn from a bag slung across his chest.

The hallways were empty and stale as the nameless man ran through them. His footsteps echoed more than they would have had the building not been abandoned, and the man couldn’t shake the feeling that there were ghosts grabbing at his heels. After all that had happened, he thought it might just be possible.

He slowed at a large metal door and dug in his bag, drawing forth a rigid plastic identification card. On the card was a dead agent’s name and a red word with a red star. The man’s hand shook as he slid the card down the reader and begged for the power to still be on. It was. The man breathed a sigh of relief, sucking in dust and failure.

Beyond the door was a terminal and a screen. The man powered both up, rocking back and forth on his heels from anxiety as the computers whirred to life. He waited the few minutes until midnight and then pulled up a heavily encrypted messaging program, fingers flying over the keyboard, typing in multiple passwords. With a sharp  _ ping _ that sliced through the air the program recognized him. He was online.

In the harsh light, the man smiled. He typed in a simple message:

_ He’s running. The other subject is with him.  _

_ License plate: ------- _

_ Thought you should know. _

The man waited. He watched the digital clock in the bottom right corner. Three minutes and fourteen seconds passed. Then, quieter than the first, another  _ ping _ rang out and a message appeared on the screen.

_ I am aware. _

_ But, thank you. Very much. _

The man nodded, not expecting anything less. His smile grew and he stared at the screen, at the words, knowing there would not be another message, but wanting to hold onto the high as long as possible. The cursor blinked at him and he hummed, still smiling, as he shut the equipment down once more. This time, it was very likely no one would use them ever again.

He walked slower as he left, aware of the absence of weight on his shoulders. His movements were lighter. He didn’t tug on the strap of his bag. He no longer scowled. 

Once outside, the man locked the door.

He didn’t get a chance to put away the keys.

A shot rang out that night, below a tall and shiny and vacant building. The KCPD would never solve it. The body was a John Doe, lacking any identification. He was a ghost, in more ways than one. The KCPD didn’t find a bag on him. 

They certainly didn’t find a keycard with a red word and a red star.

\---

Down the highway Sebastian traveled, down the road to a place he would consider the middle of nowhere, a figure sat hunched over a desk. They stared at a computer screen and sipped at chamomile tea. On the screen, the cursor blinked at them, and they reread the message they had sent:  _ I am aware. But, thank you. Very much. _

A phone buzzed on the desk. The person snatched it eagerly. They read the text. They grinned.

\---

Stefano woke as Sebastian pulled into a gas station. He uncurled himself with a scowl and yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his accent thicker than normal.

“Getting gas. Getting a drink.” 

Stefano stopped mid-face rub and glared.

“Not that kind of drink. Coffee. Y’know, cause I’m tired. And you’re not driving.”

“Right.”

Sebastian laughed. He was delirious and he knew it.

“Why don’t you get the gas. I’ll go inside, pay for it. Want anything?”

“Ugh. Do I have--” Stefano stopped himself from finishing the sentence once he saw the pointedness in Sebastian’s glare. He glared back but huffed and undid the seatbelt. Sebastian smirked and opened his door.

“Great to see you pulling your slack.” Sebastian mumbled. Stefano didn’t reply, only slammed his door once he was out of the truck. Sebastian headed for the gas station, stretching his arms over his head as he walked. The building was a dingy little outpost in a tiny, dirty little town. The name wasn’t one he recognized, so he assumed it wasn’t a chain. The bell on the door was tinny as he entered, the sound stale. There was no one at the counter and Sebastian made a beeline to the coffee. The liquid that came out of the machine was lukewarm and pale. He frowned at it, set the cup down, and left it there. A soda would have more caffeine than that.

“Hey.”

Sebastian looked up. Now there was a person at the counter, leaned over it, one brow arched disapprovingly.

“The hell you think you’re doing? You’re going to buy that.”

“It’s shit. I’m not buying that.”

The girl at the counter deepened her frown. She appraised Sebastian for a moment before vaulting the counter with impressive fluidity and walking to him. She plucked the cup from the counter and eyed it.

“Oh, well, yeah. That’s shit. Sorry about that.” She walked back to the counter, cup in hand, and dropped it to the other side, into what was presumably an unseen trash can. Then she rubbed her eyes and turned back to face Sebastian.

“You getting gas?”

“Yeah.”

“Cash?”  
“Yeah.” Sebastian pulled two crumpled 20’s from his pocket and handed it to the girl. Again she vaulted the counter (Sebastian wondered how often she did that) and dropped the bills into the cash register without looking at them. She picked up a microphone.

“Station 1 you can begin filling.” She paused, pulling the microphone away from her lips. “That is your guy out there, isn’t it?”

“Uhh.” Sebastian peered out the window. Stefano was leaned against the car, arms folded, glaring at him. The pump was in the car, at least. “Yeah, that’s my… he’s with me.”

“Aight. Well,” The girl laughed. “You want something better than Marco’s piss poor coffee?”

Sebastian didn’t know who Marco was and the girl was watching him with barely hidden amusement, wiggling her eyebrows, but he nodded. She smiled. He waited for it--she jumped over the counter again.

“Do you do that all the time?”

“Nah, only when I’m not busy. Only when there’s people who wouldn’t care.”

Sebastian snorted and the girl lead him to the soda aisle. She pursed her lips.

“Well there are the energy drinks. I’m assuming you’re on a long drive.” She waved her hand at Sebastian’s wary scowl. “We get a lot of people passing through. No one wants to stay in this shithole, let alone come from somewhere else and land here. Anyway…”

“Am I going to crash after drinking one of these?” Sebastian asked, pulling a silver can from the refrigerator. He turned it over to read the ingredients and then decided he didn’t really want to.

“That one, yes. This one…” the girl struggled to snag a neon blue can on one of the higher shelves, but Sebastian thought better than to try and help her. She finally got it and held it out. “This one’s better. Less sugar, but it lasts longer, won’t drop you off the caffeine edge.”

“Zang, huh?” The cans were cold in Sebastian’s hand and he weighed them, scrutinized them. “Do you know if these things are healthy?”

“I am an energy drink effecianado, and I will tell you neither of those will kill you. I mean, not quickly. Don’t mix alcohol with ‘em.”

“Damn.”

“Oh come on, man. You’re driving, right?” The girl elbowed Sebastian in the ribs and he smiled down at her. He was beginning to like her. 

“I’ll get the one you suggested.” He said. He put the silver can back.

“Nice choice. I’ve recommended that to like, five people this last week. That company should hire me. I could get outta here.” She swept her gaze over him and Sebastian noted her eyes were even lighter than Stefano’s, more grey than blue, wider too. “Don’t you want to get one for your boyfriend?”

Sebastian choked on air.

“He’s not my  _ boyfriend. _ ” 

“Oh, oh alright. Are you just like his guy friend?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, I mean, it’s just you’re traveling together and all. You’re either a romantic interest for him or you’re not.”

“That’s personal stuff, kid.” Sebastian’s voice iced over on the last word, and not because of the girl in front of him.  _ Kid. _ God, he’d never hear that word the same way again. He cleared his throat, licked his lips, tried to get his mind off the past. The girl knew she’d hit a chord. She raised her hands in surrender.

“Sorry man. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just, I dunno. I’m an idiot.” She scratched her head, short red hair sticking up in tufts. “I’ll, ah, check you out at the counter.”

Sebastian set the can down and snagged a bag of chips for good measure. Then, on second thought, he held up a finger and went to find something he thought Stefano might like. The man was picky about junk food. He was the opposite of Sebastian and probably 80% of the U.S. He’d rather eat a salad than a burger and it was quite inconvenient given their current circumstances. But, Sebastian could at least  _ try. _ He was browsing the candy section, debating between chocolate bars and Oreos when Stefano entered, flustered. He looked around and sprinted to Sebastian’s side, gripping his arm with unexpected force.

“I think we’re being followed.” He hissed. Immediately Sebastian’s hand went to his hip and he stalked out of the aisle. The girl at the counter squeaked.  

“H-hey what are you doing there?”

“Stay quiet and get down. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sebastian said, dangerously quiet. Wide-eyed, the girl obeyed and ducked her head underneath the counter. She disappeared. Sebastian drew his gun. “Where, Stefano?”

“There was a car that drove by. Slow. All black, tinted windows. It had no plates.”

“Shit!”

Wedged between a couple of shelves, Sebastian watched the doors. Stefano crept behind him and crouched by the emergency exit. They waited. Nothing happened.

“Hey kid? You still there?”

“Uh, yep. I ain’t got a trap door.”

“You don’t sound too scared. Do you have an emergency button under that counter?”

“Yes sir I most certainly do.”

“Have you pressed it?”

“Am I sealing my fate if I tell you?”

Stefano looked in confusion from Sebastian to the unseen female voice muffled by the counter (he hadn’t seen the girl when he ran in). Sebastian didn’t acknowledge him. He kept his eyes on the door, trained down the sight of his pistol. He scoffed, the sound devoid of amusement.

“I-We’re not going to hurt you. The people chasing us, well, that’s another story.”

It was silent for a moment. 

“I didn’t press the button, because I like you, and you don’t seem like the type who’d want to kill me.”

“Smart girl.”

“Thanks, I think.” She took a deep breath. “How long are we going to stay like this?”

Instead of estimating a made-up time, Sebastian asked Stefano: “Did you see the car stop?”

“No. It went by once, turned around, and then exited out onto the highway.”

“So they’re not stationed here. Makes sense.” Sebastian lowered the gun back into the holster at his side. In the direction of the counter, he called: “I think you can get up now.”

“You don’t sound very confident.”

“I’m, well, I am a cop. You’re fine. Get up.”

Red hair appeared slowly over the edge of the counter, sort of like a mock rendition of the rising sun. Then there was a forehead, then eyes, huge and bright. The girl clamored up, pulling herself upright with a white-knuckled grip. Lips pressed into a straight, grim line, she appraised the two men before her. 

“So you’re a cop.” She nodded to Sebastian. He nodded back. “And your not-boyfriend is…”

“An informant.” Sebastian hurriedly answered, avoiding the odd, indecipherable look Stefano cast his way. 

“And you’re running because you’re being hunted?”

“Well, yes. I mean it’s cat and mouse on both sides, but--”

“Who the fuck are you running from? The fucking mob?”

The girl screeched the questions, calm demeanor having finally run out. She dropped her elbows to the counter and dug her fingers into her hair. Attention cast to a crooked tile on the floor, her eyes unfocused. They lost their vibrant sheen. She murmured: “I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t… just… what the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Hey, calm down. You’re going to be fine.” Sebastian said, trying his best to be soothing. He failed at it.

“Nope. Nope I’m not. I’m going to die. You guys are running from the fucking mob. I mean,” she pointed to Stefano. “He’s Italian! He’s fucking Italian! We got black cars and grizzled cops and energy drinks and I mean  _ what happened _ ? Did you two get together and someone found out? Or, like, are you one of those dirty cops who was paid off by some mob family and now you’re screwed because everyone found out and you’re on the run? The fuck did you two  _ do _ ?”

The question hung in the air. Sebastian and Stefano exchanged a look. It took Sebastian by surprise when it was Stefano who spoke first.

“Not every Italian is in the mob, I will have you know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if the utterance had given him a headache. “We are not running from the mob. We’re running from…”

“A shadow organization.” Sebastian filled in. Stefano shrugged his shoulders. It was good enough of an explanation. The girl paled even more.

“Shadow organization?” she whispered. There was a flash of some unnameable recognition that sparked across her eyes. “Do you know the name of it?”

Now it was Sebastian’s turn to be wary. Bent over the counter, eyes dilated with fear, the girl didn’t look like standard Mobius fare. She was emotional, personable, likeable. She wasn’t well put together, all baggy hoodie and baggy jeans, but she was looking at Sebastian with such intelligence that for a split second she reminded him of Kidman. She was a woman who could--and would--get things done. The resemblance was far more than uncanny. Sebastian knew Mobius would recruit young people, especially highly intelligent ones or those with nowhere to go. Kidman had fit both categories. This girl, though… He didn’t know enough about her.

Sparing a quick glance to Stefano, who was equally on edge, Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest and moved toward the counter. The girl didn’t budge. She kept her eyes on him, calculating, intensely aware.

“Have you ever heard the word Mobius before?”

The change that came over the girl was instantaneous. She relaxed--closed her eyes, even. She smiled and let out a breath.

“You’re with the good guys. You’re Mobius.”

Her words were a shock to the system. Sebastian sprang back and even Stefano lurched away from the girl. When she opened her eyes, she found the two of them like that, partially disgusted, partially confused.

“W-what? You… you’re not with Mobius.”

“No we’re fucking not.” Sebastian agreed. Again the girl’s walls came up. She arched 

away from Sebastian as he leaned in, closer. “How do you know them?”

“My brother, he’s…” Her gaze flicked between the two men. “This isn’t a good place to talk.”

“Where is a good place to talk, then?” Stefano asked. He walked closer; Sebastian held him back with a hand on his chest. There was no need to intimidate the girl even more than they’d already done.

“Shit. I’m in this now, aren’t I?”

No one answered. She groaned and ran a hand over her face, stopping just to cover her mouth. She blinked a few times, rapidly, and Sebastian could see the lucidity return to her. Damn. She was a quick recovery.

“Okay, for the record, Mobius are still the good guys. I have no idea who the hell you two are, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”

“Sebastian Castellanos.” Sebastian said. He held out his hand. The girl took it without hesitation, without flinching at his name. “That’s Stefano Valentini.” He added with a jab over his shoulder. The artist huffed, but nodded.

“I’m Sid. Well, Felicity. But everyone calls me Sid. Felicity Crannan. Nice to properly meet you after you pulled a gun on me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian said. He meant it. Sid knew it. “But, we still need to talk.”

“Yes, not here. I don’t know Mobius secrets, I’ll tell you that much right now. I really don’t know much at all other than my brother works for them and they’re a charitable organization. They’ve, well, they’ve done a lot for us, my brother and I, over the years. I’m just not into the training aspect of the whole thing.”

“Training?” Sebastian and Stefano echoed. Sid gave a nervous chuckle.

“Not here. Not… just no. Umm, where are you guys staying?”

“Nowhere, at the moment.” 

“Probably in the car.” Stefano bemoaned. Sid’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

“You guys can come stay with me.” She offered. She gave a shaky smile at the expressions of the men before her. “Yeah, it’s weird, but it’s not the craziest thing I’ve done tonight, right? I have two transients in my gas station, one who pulled a gun on me and ordered me under the counter, and I didn’t call the police. Like, that’s some death wish shit right there.”

Sebastian scratched the back of his head. He had to agree with her. Sid seemed to have a very low capacity for personal safety. He wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or a hindrance down the road.

“We’re not going to impose upon you.” Sebastian assured, much to Stefano’s dismay. The man opened his mouth to retort but Sid beat him to it.

“No, no you will. I insist, really. You two are interesting and I’m positive you’re going to give me answers to some… questions that I have. You can think of it as payment. I’m guessing you don’t have much money.”

There were no objections to Sid’s plan. Sebastian had a few but thought better of speaking them when he felt Stefano’s hand on his shoulder. Goddamned diva. Too good for sleeping in the car. Too reliant on good food and running water…

“Well, seems like it’s settled, then.” Sid declared. Her hand trembled as she scratched her nose and Sebastian wondered if the reality of what she’d suggested had just smacked her across the face. She didn’t recant, though.

“Yeah, I guess.”

With the adrenaline wearing off, Sebastian felt exhaustion seep into his bones. It was from the driving, from the almost shootout, from everything that had happened to him in these past years. It was ever-present, hard to shake. He blinked, barely managing not to sway. He was grateful for Stefano’s support in that moment, because he couldn’t trust himself not to collapse. But the dizzy spell passed and Sebastian rubbed his face. He was still in the gas station. Stefano was still behind him. Sid was still in front of him and now there was a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of payment, Mr. Castellanos.” She began. Her smile grew as she leaned against the checkout counter and nodded to the energy drink and chips and candy. “You gonna pay for that?”

\---

There was a clipped knock against the heavy oak door and the person at the desk paused in their writing. They set their pen down. 

“Enter.” They said, voice sharp, thunderous in the high-ceilinged office.

Two agents entered. The person at the desk leaned back, farther into the shadows, as the two walked nearer. They were brothers, twins. The one on the left was Remy. The one on the right, Milo. The seated knew each of them personally, perhaps more than personally: mentally. They were both Agents Stockton. They were good agents, malleable, loyal. If the Administrator in Krimson City had had as good of agents as Milo and Remy, perhaps his whole situation could have turned out differently. But he didn’t, and that was why they were in the position they were in: Mobius already controlled the world. Wishing for more would only usher destruction down upon them. The Greeks had a word for that. It was hubris. The Administrator had been the epitome of it.

And now, it seemed, the Overseer would have to clean it up.

“Report. What have you found?”

“Both subjects are currently in Carrolton, ma’am. They are low on supplies. Castellanos is armed.”

Remy placed a folder on the Overseer’s ornate desk. She slid it nearer and flipped it open. Inside were photographs. She scanned them, smiled at them. All of what her two most loyal agents had said was true. The pair were running low on resources. Castellanos was haggard. Valentini was lost. What did they hope to accomplish, really? What goal did they have in mind.

“Wonderful job, Remy.” She turned to his twin. “And Milo, what have you for me?”

The answer was a plastic bag. Within was a blood spattered Mobius ID card, standard Krimson City issue, standard upper level clearance design. The Overseer gasped with excitement. She snatched the bag and leaned forward, into the light. Both agents dropped their heads to avoid her eye.

“My, how did you get this so quickly, Milo?”

“I took the helicopter, ma’am.”

“Splendid, just splendid.” The Overseer cooed. She tapped her nail against the hard plastic. The blood on the card was not yet dry; it smeared across the bag, the same color as the Overseer’s wide grin.

“What would you have us do now, ma’am?” the brothers asked in unison. 

“Just wait for a bit. Castellanos will deliver himself to us, I’m sure of it.”

“Yes ma’am, of course ma’am.” Their words were identical in inflection and timing. Their compliance was a chant and that pleasure of command sang in the Overseer’s bones. They turned to leave but she called to them once more, eyes never leaving the stained card.

“And boys?”

“Yes, Overseer?”

“Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. This was going to be about a sassy Christmas card sent to Mobius HQ but it evolved into this monster. What am I even doing with my life? Living it, that's what! *puts on sunglasses indoors*  
> On a different note, hope you all had a wonderful Xmas and Die Hard is my FAVORITE Xmas movie. So maybe that will have an influence... maybe not. We shall see in the near future, which to some of you, might be the past. Time zones are weird.


End file.
